


just a little bit of your heart

by style_s



Series: zarry - song lyrics [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Artist Zayn, Cheating, Cigarettes, Coffee Shops, Lowercase, M/M, Mentioned Suicide Attempt, References to Depression, Sad Harry, Sad Zayn, Short One Shot, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 11:09:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12982779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/style_s/pseuds/style_s
Summary: maybe zayn looks forward to fridays.just a little bit of your heart - ariana grande (written by harry styles)





	just a little bit of your heart

it’s a cold friday in october when it happens.

it’s always busy at the coffee shop on fridays; it’s open mic days, and, come on, who doesn’t love free music? for the most part, the shop has regulars that come in every friday. there’s a couple bands, a couple solo acts, and occasionally a new person that goes once and never returns. zayn loves these days; love listening to new people, watching the happy expressions that take over people’s faces as they get captivated by the performances. zayn has never heard someone who has been bad, and he doesn’t think he will. he hopes that one day his hands would stop sweating and his legs would stop shaking just enough so that he could perform, but he doubts that day comes.

he’s wiping a table when someone he’s never seen before steps up to the microphone. zayn can tell the bloke’s nervous; his fingers tap nervously at the guitar in his hands, eyes looking down at the floor.

“hi, uh, my name is harry, and i’ve been wanting to do this for a bit so i thought, why not today, right?” there’s tons of encouraging smiles in the crowd, and harry visibly relaxes when he sees those. he smiles at the crowd, and zayn doesn’t realize that his hands has stopped wiping the table until he’s already sat down, giving harry his full attention. harry clears his throat, strums a few strings on his guitar, and begins singing.

he sings a song called girl crush by little big town. zayn hates that he knows that song from how often niall, his coworker, plays it; hates that harry sings a song that zayn doesn’t like and makes him like it.

when he’s done, everyone applauds, whistles, screams (zayn thinks they’d be insane if they didn’t). harry smiles shyly, waves politely at the crowd before stepping off the stage without another word. he goes and sits at a table by himself, smiling and typing something on his phone. zayn wipes his hands on his jeans and walks over there.

“can i get you anything?” zayn asks, and he’s sure harry flinched, but he doesn’t mention it because he doesn’t want him to think he’s weird and stalkerish. zayn shakes it off, notes that workers don’t even go to tables at this shop; people come to the counter and order. he prays harry doesn’t notice that. harry smiles at him, places his phone down on the table even though he was probably mid-text, and zayn thinks harry is the sweetest person ever even if they don’t even know each other at all.

“yes, actually! can i have a blueberry muffin and a small black coffee, please?” harry asks sweetly and zayn just nods, smiles back even though he regrets it as he walks away because he hates his smile and god, did harry think his smile was ugly?

zayn gets these items quickly, brings them back to harry’s table, harry paying in exact change plus a little extra for a small tip, thanking zayn.

“i enjoyed your performance. think you’ll come back next week? we have a lot of people who are regular performers, and the crowd really seemed to like you.” zayn doesn’t normally talk to any of the performers, and he doesn’t know why he’s talking to harry, either.

“yeah, i think i will! this was my first time playing in front of a crowd, and i really liked it! i’m thinking of maybe playing an original song sometime,” harry says excitedly, and zayn keeps in mind that harry is very enthusiastic with music. he wonders what harry does for a living, and he hopes that harry comes in before next friday because zayn doesn’t want to have to wait a whole week to see him again.

-

zayn hadn’t really thought about harry much, but he can’t help but get excited when harry walks through the door next friday, an hour and a half before open mic night is scheduled to begin. the shop is practically empty; most people are still at work, the only people being here an elderly couple and a group of teenagers.

“hey! you came back!” zayn says when harry walks up to the counter. harry laughs, puts his beanie into his coat pocket and takes it off. he’s wearing a white long sleeve shirt with black jeans and boots and zayn thinks he looks stunning. zayn feels like he pales in comparison with his olive hoodie and battered converse.

“yeah, couldn’t resist,” harry jokes, leaning against the counter. zayn decides he wants nothing more than to become close to him.

“gonna sing that original song?” zayn asks, and harry laughs, shaking his head.

“couple more covers. gotta leave the crowd in mystery and begging for more. also need to find the courage,” harry says, and zayn’s jealous of how easily he talks; doesn’t take a second to respond like zayn does, doesn’t have to run everything through his head twenty times before he says it.

“i get it. gotta build the image first. i love it,” zayn jokes nervously, hoping harry actually laughs. he does, and zayn thinks he’s never been more relieved in his life.

“i never caught your name?” zayn wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans, thankful harry can’t see that with the counter between them.

“i mean, if i have to stay in wonder with your song, don’t you think i should get to leave you in wonder with something, too?” harry gasps, shaking his head.

“not fair! if you know my name then i get to know yours. if you forgot, then hi, i’m harry styles, and you are…?” and zayn wants to keep the joke going but harry’s tongue is peeking out between his toothy smile and-

“malik. zayn malik.” zayn thinks it’s worth not going on with the joke when harry laughs.

“you’re dumb. but it’s nice to meet you, malik. zayn malik.” and they talk until people start to show up and zayn has to actually start working. zayn finds out that harry works at a clothing store in the mall and that’s the last thing he expected. he doesn’t know why, but he expected harry to work in a bakery or a bookstore or a music store; can’t seem to picture him selling clothes at pacsun or tillys (zayn doesn’t remember which he said because harry mentioned a lot of clothing stores; harry is also really enthusiastic about fashion).

harry performs about halfway through the night. he introduces the song; the chain by fleetwood mac. zayn has never heard it, but he promises to listen to every song by fleetwood mac if harry likes them. he does amazing, as zayn expected, and he’s just as happy as he steps off the small stage.

“way to rock it, mystery man!” zayn says, and harry has the biggest smile on his face. he checks the time on his phone, frowns, and tells zayn he has to go, but that he’ll be back next friday. zayn doesn’t have a chance to say anything before harry walks out of the shop, and now it’s zayn’s turn to frown.

-

it’s next friday, and harry kept his promise, but something is off, zayn notes. he doesn’t have his guitar with him, and his usual face of happiness is replaced with a look of sadness. he goes up to the counter again, and zayn frowns at him.

“what’s wrong, rockstar?” zayn asks, knowing that it’s probably not his place to do so, but he still does.

“just a little bummed. got in a fight with my boyfriend, and he accidentally broke a string on my guitar. he felt bad and he’s paying to fix it, but still. i invited some friends to watch today and i don’t have a guitar to play. sorry, i know we don’t know each other well. you’re just easy to talk to.” zayn is making him black coffee without harry even asking, knowing harry will want one. he gives it to harry, on the house.

“it’s okay, harry. my friend, niall, may have his guitar if you want to borrow it?” zayn says, acting like he’s not bothered by the fact that harry has a boyfriend; selfishly hopes that they fight often and that things aren’t going well. harry’s face brightens as he nods, and zayn calls niall over.

niall is of course cool with it, as that’s just the kind of guy he is. he’s definitely zayn’s best friend, even though they only really talk when they’re at work, and they text all the time, but never really hang out. zayn begins to think about how pathetic that is, but quickly shakes it off as he looks at the happiness and relief on harry’s face. niall joins the conversation, though the shop quickly gets busy, and harry goes off to see two guys that entered the place. zayn wonders if one of them is his boyfriend.

harry sings dancing on my own by robyn. zayn has never liked the original; liked a lot of covers of it, but he likes harry’s cover the best. he wonders if harry likes the original or a cover of it, but, most of all, he wonders what made harry choose this song. he notes that this is the third song harry has sang that can be related to cheating. zayn (once again) selfishly hopes harry’s relationship is rocky.

zayn notes that his friends look upset. the shorter of the two is crying, while the one with the shaved hair looks angry. he thinks maybe the angry one is harry’s boyfriend. harry goes to talk to them after, and zayn pretends not to eavesdrop as he cleans a nearby table.

“harry, leave him. if you think he’s not being faithful then you have no reason to be with him,” the tall one says. zayn becomes intrigued, feels guilty about listening in but can’t stop.

“i don’t know he is for sure, li. louis, stop crying before i cry, you pussy.” harry’s voice is shaking, and zayn wonders how often he jokes to avoid talking about this. how often he waves it off like it’s nothing; how often his friends worry about him because he brushes it off with a reassurance and a few jokes in their direction.

zayn walks away after that. he doesn’t want to hear anymore of harry’s excuses because he’s barely even talked to harry about his boyfriend yet he’s still almost positive he’s being cheated on. it pisses zayn off because harry is too nice to deserve that. zayn sighs, rubs his eyes, and gets back to work. harry and his friends stay until after zayn and niall’s shift, harry introducing all of them. they hang at the shop for a while after closing, and zayn feels apart of something for the first time in forever.

zayn feels alone as he lays in his empty bed, and he wonders if harry feels the same way in his even with another person in it.

-

harry’s not there the next friday. zayn shakes off the disappointment; harry has more important things to do than perform at this little coffee shop. he could be working, having a date with his boyfriend, hanging out with friends, anything. zayn is definitely not bothered by it. it’s not his place to be; they’re friends, nothing more. 

- 

harry comes on a wednesday. he looks exhausted, orders the normal black coffee. they talk about everything except what could be making harry as tired as he is. his eyes are bloodshot, but zayn pretends not to notice.

“why don’t you ever sing on fridays? like, niall does, so i know it’s not an employee rule, so why don’t you?” harry asks shyly. zayn stares at him, shakes his head, laughs it off.

“i can’t sing, dude. i’m awful, like. it’s just bad,” zayn lies, and harry gives him an expression that tells zayn he can see right through him.

“bullshit. you watch people perform like you wish you were them. just do it sometime.” harry sips his coffee, his cheeks still red from being outside in the cold november air.

“i’ll make you a deal; i’ll sing if you hang out with me after my shift.” zayn doesn’t know where the sudden confidence comes from, doesn’t even have to pause and think before the sentence makes its way out of his mouth. harry smiles immediately, though it quickly disappears.

“i have a boyfriend, zayn,” harry says, but he says it like it’s bad thing. like he doesn’t want to have a boyfriend, but he does. zayn shrugs.

“it’s not a date unless you want it to be.” 

“that’s the thing. i _do_ want it to be, but i have a boyfriend,” harry says, looking at his fingers in shame. 

“can’t stay with someone you don’t like, harry. it’s not fair to you or him.” harry laughs, but nothing is funny. 

“he’s not exactly fair to me either.” zayn doesn’t know what to say. he wonders if this man really is cheating on harry, and, if so, if harry is aware. harry rubs his eyes and jokingly says, “so do you want to get coffee or something?”

-

they don’t get coffee. harry leaves, but comes back at the end of zayn’s shift. they eat dinner at a small place, then go walk around a park.

“tell me about yourself, malik. zayn malik,” harry says, feet kicking at a rock at his feet. zayn looks up at him, never really realizing they had this much of a height difference until today.

“there’s not much to know. i work at a coffee shop,” zayn says, and harry laughs quietly and shoves him.

“tell me about your family and what you want to do. tell me things that matter.” they sit on a bench. zayn can see harry breathing, reminds him of the days when he used to smoke cigarettes. the days when he was depressed and lonely and needed something to slowly kill him before he eventually tried to do it all at once. zayn wonders if he looked as good blowing smoke out of his mouth as harry looks when the fog leaves his mouth.

“i have a house full of sisters, for starters,” zayn says, and harry laughs.

“yeah, so does louis. i only have one sister, don’t think i could handle many more. gemma already treats me like her own child and worries about me too much, don’t need more sisters doing it, too.” zayn wants to meet gemma; wants harry to introduce him to her as his boyfriend. he wonders what reasons harry gives gemma to worry, wonders if he shakes her off in a faze of denial and dry, empty jokes.

“i really like music and art. i’d like to do something with those, but it’s hard to do much with them while working at the coffee shop full-time. gotta pay the bills, ya know.”

“wait, you don’t go to university? how old are you?” zayn laughs.

“i’m twenty. i can’t really afford it. i’d rather my parents use the money to send my sisters anyway. they have so much more potential.” harry nods, biting his lip. zayn learns that harry goes to university, learns he’s also twenty and that zayn is only twenty days older than him. harry tells zayn he shouldn’t be older since he’s shorter and zayn punches him in the arm.

zayn doesn’t like when they get to the part of the night where harry is walking him home. zayn lives in a shitty apartment, but harry compliments the outside of it. zayn thinks he’d take his compliment back if he saw the inside, but he doesn’t invite harry inside because zayn still doesn’t know if this is a date or not.

“i had fun. we should do this again?” zayn says, leaning against his front door. harry nods, biting the inside of his cheek. and then he leans down, eyes closed, and zayn’s on his tiptoes and kissing harry back before he can’t even process it.

it doesn’t last long, much to zayn’s (and harry’s) dismay. zayn’s almost sure it’s a date now (at least he prays it is). harry sighs, rests his forehead against zayn’s.

“i’m just as bad as he is now.” zayn doesn’t have a chance to ask him what he means by that. the warmth of harry’s body is gone as soon as it leaves his mouth.

-

“you’re singing, right?” is the first thing harry says when zayn sees him the next friday. it’s two days later and zayn can still feel the heat and tingles of harry’s lips on his. zayn shakes his head, tells harry that he can’t. he doesn’t have the confidence, doesn’t have the will or incentive. harry nods sadly, and zayn wonders if he’s still thinking about the kiss, too.

“are you singing your original yet?” zayn asks, and harry nods. zayn thinks about when he was a teenager and fell for a guy who was straight, fell for someone he couldn’t have. zayn thinks it’s crazy that he keeps getting himself in these situations, thinks it’s crazy how history repeats itself.

“my boyfriend is coming to watch me tonight,” harry says, and zayn looks up from the cash register. he doesn’t say it happily, doesn’t say it sadly. just states it like it’s a fact, which it is. if zayn wasn’t really mad before, he definitely is now. first harry kisses him then runs off, and now he’s bringing his boyfriend to the place where zayn works? to what, flaunt him? zayn nods, pressing his lips together.

“no, look, zayn. i’m going to-” but he doesn’t finish because someone shows up to order and zayn waves him off. he doesn’t want an explanation. harry goes and sits at a table alone. when his boyfriend arrives, he greets harry with a kiss on the cheek even though neither of them look happy about him doing so. zayn watches and pretends not to be jealous. thinks harry would be happier with him, thinks the guy doesn’t even _look_ right for harry. he’s blonde with blue eyes and pale skin. he’s tall and muscular, and he’s the exact opposite of zayn. he makes harry curl in on himself, makes him make himself smaller.

zayn doesn’t even look are harry again until he’s on the stage, guitar in hand. he tells the audience that he’s going to sing an original song, and everyone cheers. he smiles, then tells them that it’s for someone in the audience, looks right at his boyfriend as he says it. his boyfriend smiles at him, and zayn wants to throw up, wants to scrub his lips until they forget the feel of harry’s, hit his head against the wall until the scene stops replaying in his head.

harry starts the song, and zayn expects a love song. expects harry to sing a ballad to this man and for them to kiss when it’s done while zayn stands heartbroken. but that’s not what happens. it’s not what he expects, and zayn can tell that it’s not what harry’s boyfriend expects, either.

_i don’t ever ask you where you’ve been, and i don’t feel the need to know who you’re with. i can’t even think straight, but i can tell that you were just with her. but i’ll still be a fool..._

harry looks at his boyfriend, but looks at zayn as he sings _i’m a fool for you_ and zayn’s hands are shaking, heart is beating fast. harry keeps looking at him as he sings.

_i don’t ever tell you how i really feel ‘cause i can’t find the words to say what i mean. and nothing’s ever easy, that’s what they say. i know i’m not his only, but i’ll still be a fool. i’m a fool for you._

zayn feels like a jerk for being rude to harry. his boyfriend has an unreadable expression on his face; anger, jealousy, guilt. zayn can’t tell. he does follow harry’s eyes, though; eyes zayn, making zayn squirm underneath his gaze.

harry looks directly at his boyfriend as he sings _i know i’m not your only, but at least i’m one. i heard a little love is better than none._

the song ends, and zayn asks niall to take over the cash register. zayn has no time to think before he also asks niall for a cigarette, too.

his hands are still shaking as he takes niall’s lighter to the cigarette. he’s about to take a drag when harry comes up to him.

“you smoke?” zayn’s hand lowers, cigarette never making it to his mouth as he shakes his head, throwing it onto the ground. harry doesn’t question it, and zayn feels guilty for wasting niall’s cigarette, knowing how expensive they are. he had just felt the craving for one that he hadn’t felt in such a long time. It’s silent for a bit before harry speaks.

“i broke up with him.” and it’s silent after he says it. he doesn’t need to explain, but he does.

“he was cheating on me. i found the girl, talked to her. she didn’t know. she was very nice, very pretty. blonde hair, blue eyes; complete opposite of me.” _i want her long blonde hair, i want her magic touch…_

zayn thinks about how he and harry’s boyfriend were complete opposites, too.

“how long have you known?” zayn finds himself asking. harry digs the heel of his boot into the crumpled cigarette.

“too long to just now be breaking up with him. the day after i found out, i grabbed my guitar and performed at an open mic night because i was so upset that i had given up music for a piece of shit that just used me. met someone better when i did it, too.” and harry’s smiling at him even though his eyes are bloodshot and there’s faint tear stains on his cheeks. and zayn’s smiling, too, because this didn’t end like last heartbreak. it didn’t end with him downing pills and alcohol at the same time with cigarettes burned into his skin. it didn’t end with tears streaming down his family’s faces and machines hooked into his skin.

zayn’s on his tiptoes kissing harry before the latter can even process it, hands on zayn’s hips, nails digging into them. zayn’s hand is on harry’s cheek, and this kiss lasts longer than the first; doesn’t feel rushed or wrong. this one feels right and perfect and _complete_.

-

it’s a tuesday after shop hours. harry is doing homework for his university, and zayn is the only employee there to close the shop. as planned, zayn makes his way over to the shop’s piano, just pressing few keys.

“keep it down, you rat. i’m doing homework,” harry jokes, but he’s actually dropped his pencil, pushed away his laptop, just to watch zayn aimlessly press keys.

“i may not have the confidence to play in front of everyone on fridays during open mic, but how about i give you a special performance on a tuesday after hours?” and harry’s nodding excitedly before zayn’s even got the whole sentence out. zayn laughs happily and contently.

“i wrote this for you,” zayn says, and harry puts his hand over his heart dramatically. zayn rolls his eyes, but he smiles anyway and lines his fingers up on the piano, and begins playing.

_this love is tainted…_

-

zayn comes home with a plain black coffee and a blueberry muffin, knowing harry will want them after taking his finals. he’s greeted with christmas music as he opens the front door (to the same old shitty apartment that harry _did_ compliment the inside of), harry sat on the floor wrapping presents for his family, maybe even some of the ones zayn bought for his own.

“how were the last of your finals?” zayn asks, handing him the things he brought home for him, which he gladly accepts. harry grabs his phone, turning to a different playlist because he knows that zayn doesn’t like christmas music. zayn lays down on the floor next to him, sketchbook in front of him. zayn had recently been submitting artwork into some online competitions, sent some stuff to a few companies. he’s thought about video game designing, a thought that came to him while watching harry play a scary game.

“they were good! i think i did good on all of them,” harry says, zayn smiling fondly at him even as he talks with his mouth full of blueberry muffins.

“my mom is excited to meet you on christmas eve. she called me and talked about it for about an hour today. you waste my time even when you’re not around,” harry jokes, and zayn flicks him with his pencil.

“i hope you choke on your muffin,” zayn says, shaking his head.

“i could choke on your-” but zayn slaps a hand over his mouth before he could even finish the sentence, leaving both of them to laugh at the other. harry shoves zayn off of him, going back to wrapping presents while singing along to a fleetwood mac song that came on. zayn listens fondly, happily drawing next to him.

it’s times like these that zayn lives for the most. the times that remind him why he fell for a certain little harry styles.

 -


End file.
